I burned his mask
by BleedingHeartConservative
Summary: A possible excerpt from my retelling of Leroux. This is the scene about which Christine tells Raoul: “I lied to him. My lie was as hideous as the monster who inspired it... I paid for my liberty. I burned his mask.” One-shot for now. Retelling may follow.


**Author's Note/Dedication: **This one is posted for Keyklee, who wanted to read this scene from my Leroux retelling even though I wasn't entirely sure it was complete. For that reason, comments are especially welcomed, especially if you think there's anything important I need to add or delete. Do we need more of their thoughts? Less? Does this work as a one-shot, or do you need the rest around it? I admit Christine is a bit more manipulative than as innocent as she seems in Leroux, but my theory there is that that is the face she showed to Raoul and thus how the Persian described her. Perhaps there is another side to Christine, especially if it seemed what she needed to do to keep herself from harm.

I should also mention that El has posted a second draft of the Erik plush and if you haven't seen it please visit my DA account or her DA account to take a look. If you go to my DA, click on browse gallery and then click on "scrapbook" you can see Erik's eyes and Erik's tag. You have to follow the link at in my journal to get to Erik himself, since he's on El's account. I'll notify you all when we reach the next step.

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"_What more can I tell you, dear? Now you know the tragedy. It was renewed daily for fifteen days. Fifteen days during which I lied to him. My lie was as hideous as the monster who inspired it, and it was what I paid for my liberty. _I burned his mask._"  
_

_~The Essential Phantom of the Opera_ by Gaston Leroux, Editor Leonard Wolf (page 183)_._

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"Christine."

Christine looked up suddenly at the sound of Erik's voice. She had been listening to Erik's voice for days without number now, but his tone was suddenly very different, filled with some emotion she could sense but not name. She turned her eyes to him. He stood before her in his black mask, dressed as he always was—just a bit too formally for the time of day—but he looked different somehow as well. She frowned, trying to discern what it was.

"Christine," he said again, haltingly. "There is something—I do not—understand...." He trailed off.

She did not answer, lost in thought. His posture was timid, his voice tremulous, and though she could not see his face, she could be certain that his expression was one of worry. She felt fear instantly, as though she were about to receive from Erik bad news about a much beloved mutual acquaintance. "Go on," she said, her voice scarcely a whisper.

"Christine—" He hesitated. "If my face—does not horrify you—why then did you scream?"

She was confused for a moment, for she had not screamed in so many days, but then she remembered screaming at that first terrible revelation.

"Erik. I... I screamed..." She tried to look into his eyes but could see nothing. Yet something in the blank face seemed to beg her to insist that she had not been terrified. "I screamed because you screamed, Erik." She was nodding her head now. "Yes, you screamed first." It might be her imagination, but she thought she saw him stand a little straighter and his confidence gave her confidence in her lies. She nodded more vigorously and went on in a more commanding tone. "And you were so angry, Erik. You frightened me terribly, I admit. But it was your anger." She shook her head adamantly. "Not your face." It was only half a lie, she rationalized, and it seemed to fill him with joy.

"Oh, Christine!" The syllables of her name were like a Hallelujah as he said them and she rose suddenly at the sound though she did not reach for him. "Can it be true?" He held out his hands but did not touch her. "A miracle!"

"A miracle? Oh, perhaps, Erik, perhaps. But take off the mask now or you shall convince me that you have no faith in my words. As I fear you not, show me your face as I show you mine!" Oh, how well she had learned to act spending all her days at the Opera!

With only a little hesitation, Erik's trembling fingers untied the laces to the black silk that had covered his face and let it flutter towards the floor. Christine caught it in her hands and held it tightly, staring at it for a long moment before moving decidedly toward the parlor.

"Come, Erik," she called and he followed her like an obedient pet trotting a pace behind her.

She led him to the fireplace and sat upon the hearth. He stood before her, waiting further instruction.

"Do you believe me, Erik? I have told you that I fear you not, that you are a genius whose music makes my every limb tremble, but your face does not cause me to shudder. Now you must ask yourself. Does Erik have faith in Christine?"

The poor man, she thought looking back at him. He had his hands clasped before him, twisting his fingers together, alternatingly as though in prayer and in pain, his eyes sliding ever downward as he lacked the courage to meet her eyes, the thin hopeful smile that graced his strangely-formed lips revealing that he dared at least to _hope_ it might be true. "Yes," he rasped, his usually beautiful voice marred by emotion. He shook his head as though to clear it. "Yes, Erik has unending faith in Christine."

She nodded slowly. "I believe you, Erik," she said, and she had the sensation that she was so high above him, like a goddess that he worshipped, that she held in her hands not only his mask but his very life. She held it up ritualistically and he dared not reach for it. "You shall need this no longer." He dared not resist her, for it would reveal a lack of faith. He watched helplessly as she crumpled the silk in her hand then tossed it into the flames, which leapt forth at the sudden offering and consumed it.

"There," she said, holding her arms out like a benediction.

He fell to his knees before her, his hands still twisted together and lifted towards her, his head bowed.

She rose and touched him lightly on the shoulder with a gloved fingertip and managed not to shudder at the contact. "Arise, Erik," she told him and he obeyed.

_Oh yes_, she thought, a thin smile upon her bloodless lips. There was still hope left in her world. There was a very good chance that she could convince him to set her free.

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**Parting Note: **I've missed all of you so much! I'm sorry I can't write more often lately. You know how real life is. Send a review if you have time, or an email!! I do love to hear from you!!


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